


measure out your life

by isawet



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawet/pseuds/isawet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny owns a coffee shop and Steve is a cop. Coffeeshop AU, Danny/Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	measure out your life

Danny’s life starts going downhill the day Kono comes in for her interview. If pressed, he could probably track it back to the moment Rachel marries Stan and moves to a godforsaken jungle with his daughter, or maybe even further back to when he changes direction chasing down a tweaker with a pistol and rips his knee all to shreds, but blaming Kono is both justifiable and convenient, so he goes with her most of the time.

She looks promising at first, a little underdressed for a job interview in a bright coloured sarong wrapped around her waist and a black tanktop, but Danny has gotten used to being the only person on the island to have an appropriate sense of fashion in the workplace. She has a bum knee, like his, and he rolls up the cuff of his slacks to compare battle scars. It’s also completely obvious she has no idea what to with an espresso machine, and Danny watches her curse at it for five whole minutes, trying to figure out a nice way to send her off.

“Son of a whore bitch cunt vagina,” she says, jumping back from a blast of steam.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Danny asks, and Kono looks at him for a long minute before her face crumples and she bursts into tears. Danny panics. “Aw Jesus sweetheart,” he makes a desperate grab for a napkin dispenser. He shoves three brown paper napkins at her.

“My mom is dead,” she sobs, and Danny rubs a hand over his face.

“C’mere,” he mutters, tugging her head down against his shoulder.

Kono hiccups and looks up at him, her mascara wrecked and sticking her lashes together in dark clumps. “Do I have the job,” she asks tearfully. There are shiny tracks down both cheeks, through her dimples, and she snuffles unhappily, looking very much like Grace.

“Yes,” Danny says, and holds up a finger to quell her happy noises, “ah ah! You have to come in early tomorrow. For training. _Lots of training_.”

//

Danny serves a lot of black coffee, reasonable prices for styrofoam cups of bitter brew different pots on the warmers, complex rich blends that act like a shot of pure caffeine. He gets a lot of cops in his shop, trudging in at odd times for a pick up to last them the rest of their tour, and the rest of his customers order the sweet drinks, with chocolate and caramel syrup pumps and iced coffees mixed with vanilla and peppermint. 

“You should sell food,” Kono says, sitting on the counter as Danny shows her how to brew a shot of espresso. “You know, those sandwiches they charge you like eight dollars for, black and white cookies. Malasadas!”

“There’s a kitchen in the back,” Danny admits, scratching as his stubble, “what can you cook?”

Kono looks guilty. “Saimin?” She pauses. “The kind you... microwave.”

“Table it,” Danny decides. “Now look, when the glasses are halfway full, you hit the brew button again. Got it?”

“Yes,” Kono says brightly.

“Stop being so cheerful,” Danny says as the bell above the door rings, “it’s disgusting.” Kono dumps the espresso shot over ice to cool it and then drinks it in one go. “You’re going to have a heart attack,” Danny scolds her, and tugs her over to the register. “Your first customer!”

A harried looking woman in a pantsuit taps her lacquered nails against the countertop. “Large regular coffee, two sugars no cream.”

“Do you want a shot of espresso?” Kono asks cheerfully, “I make a mean espresso shot.”

“You haven’t made any espresso shots,” Danny says, grabbing a large cup and heading for the line of coffee machines against the back wall. “And don’t argue with the customer. House roast?”

“Please,” the woman says, and Danny rips two sugar packets open with one hand, listening to Kono ring her up behind him. He slips a cardboard sleeve over the cup and hands it over.

“The rush will probably start in about half an hour,” Danny says, “we’re not usually open this early but I figured we’re in here, might as well make some money.” The bell dings again, and Kono climbs halfway over the counter to give the dark-haired man a hug. Danny despairs at ever being able to carry an air of dignity at his place of work.

“This is my cousin,” she says cheerfully, “Chin, this is Danny, my boss.” Chin has dark eyes and native features, wavy hair cut short. He looks over Danny with careful eyes, and Danny returns the appraising look.

“You’re the only employee,” he asks Kono, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t be weird, Chin.”

“Hm,” Chin says shortly, and Danny offers him his hand. Chin has a strong handshake, and his eyes dart around the room in a way Danny recognizes.

“Can I get you a cup of joe,” he asks politely, “cop’s special?” Chin’s face goes hard, and Kono sucks in a little breath.

“I’ll make you an espresso,” she says, too loudly, going to the machine. “I just learned.” Beneath the counter, she kicks Danny in the shins hard enough to make him wince.

“On the house,” Danny says, a little lost, and Chin pulls a twenty from his pocket and drops it in the tip jar.

“I’m sure Danny splits the tips evenly,” he says protectively, and Kono rolls her eyes again.

“Go to work,” she says, and hands over his coffee. Chin leaves, but not without giving Danny another hard look.

“I’ll be back after your shift,” he says, “give you a ride home.”

“He’s protective,” Kono explains, “he’s looked out for me our whole lives, you know?”

“You need looking after,” Danny teases, reaching out to ruffle her hair. Kono bites at his fingers, grinning. “Seriously,” Danny says, “you just gave your cousin under-steamed milk and half a shot of espresso. Let’s go over everything again.”

//

Danny starts offering a beatcop’s discount after it becomes clear that the professional bussinesspeople and hipster youth population of Honolulu prefer Starbucks’ recycled cups and energy boosters over his plain roasts, and pretty soon he’s known as the morning equivalent to a cop bar, with the rest of his income coming in from short-haul truck drivers, construction workers, hotel receptionists. 

“I’m over eighteen,” Kono says when they move the espresso machine to the back counter to make room for plastic packaged boxes of individually wrapped pastries and bags of peanuts and beef jerky, cheap food you can eat in a patrol car. “We could get a liquor license.”

“You just want to bartend,” Danny grunts, sliding the machine back against the wall. 

“Hell yes,” Kono says, “bartending barista, that is badass.”

“Go open the register,” Danny says with a sigh. “Can you handle the morning rush? I want to do inventory.”

“I got you,” she says, brushing her hair back over a shoulder.

“Great,” Danny says, tugging a clipboard down off a hook. “don’t forget to refill the sugar packets.”

 

He’s writing out a list of items to order, five minutes past closing, when he hears the crashing, and he’s out of the back and over the counter in less than a minute, catching Kono by her upper arm and dragging her away.

“What the hell,” he says, pushing her aside. There’s a large man leaning heavily against the wall, nursing a bloody lip. “You okay?” he asks, and the man nods. “Good,” Danny says, and knees him hard in the gut. The man lurches, and Danny grabs him around the middle, dragging him to the backdoor.

“Danny,” Kono yelps, coming forward to help him. 

“I got this, rookie,” he grunts, and throws him out into the alley. “We reserve the right to refuse service,” he says, and slams the door shut.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Kono says, biting her lip. Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, knuckles scraped and bruised. “He’s a cop, it’ll hurt business--”

Danny waves a hand at her. “I don’t want his kind of business. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kono says, still frowning, “I’ll talk to Sid later. He’s not a bad guy, not really.” Danny steps closer to her. He points a finger towards the closed door. 

“Is that your boyfriend? Do we need to have a conversation about the bad touch?”

“What?” Kono scoffs at him. “Sid’s my cousin.”

“Another one?” Danny reaches into the display case behind the counter, blocked by pieces of felt so it can’t be seen from the front, and pours himself two fingers of bourbon. “Your family seems ridiculous.”

Kono sighs, slipping into one of the chairs. She bites a thumbnail, her elbow bouncing on the table. “Chin used to be a cop.”

Danny nods, taking a sip. “Yeah. I could tell.”

“Money went missing from one of his drug busts,” Kono says, “a lot of money.”

“They thought he was dirty,” Danny says, and Kono explodes out of her seat.

“Chin is a good cop,” she snarls, “he would never do that. _Never._ ” Danny holds his hands up appeasingly. 

“I’m not saying he did it,” he says, “just that it’s what they thought.”

“Yeah,” Kono says, pacing. “but--our whole family is on the job, you know?” Danny sighs. 

“At least you kept the brawl in off business hours,” he mutters, and Kono giggles. “And I still don’t want him in here,” he says, frowning. “I like you better than I like--what’s he in, vice? Cowboys.”

“Aw,” Kono says, “you liiiike me.”

“Go close the register,” Danny says, and Kono swoops in to press a kiss to his cheek on her way to the counter, smiling. He swats at her. “arrange the bills properly this time, facing the same direction.”

//

“Enjoy your coffee,” Danny says, sliding a cup across the counter and closing the drawer of the register with a snap. The next person steps up, a skinny blonde kid in boardshorts and flipflops. Danny gives his shirtless chest the evileye. “How can I help you,” he grunts.

“Venti caffe mocha with soymilk, no foam,” he says, and Danny stares at him. 

“What the hell is venti?”

The kid blinks. “It’s... a size?”

“Look,” Danny says, gesturing to where cups are taped to a small display. “we have small, medium, and large. Those are your choices. You can also choose to have ice, which gets you these cups, also available in small, medium and large.”

“I think I’ve forgotten how to use this,” Kono says, pulling the cover off the espresso machine and waving at the dust kicked into the air.

“I’m going to Starbucks,” the kid says, and leaves. Danny shrugs, and waves at a couple of patrol officers. 

“Two cop specials,” he tells Kono, “and the _Ladder_ basket needs to be refilled.” She tosses the tarp back over the espresso machine on her way to the coffee pot and the back room.

“Interesting business strategy,” the next person in line says. 

“I’m an interesting guy,” Danny says. “What can I get for you?”

“What’s in a cop special?”

Danny grins. “It’s a dark roast blend, oily and strong with charcoal tones and a clean finish. Not for the faint of heart, but it’ll wake you right up.”

The guy looks considering, scanning the menu, and Danny takes a minute to look at him. He’s got brown hair in a military cut, tan enough to be a local. “My heart might be a little faint,” he says with a shadow of a smile, and Danny snorts.

“If you tell me what you’re looking for,” Danny says, “I can offer some sagely advice.”

The guy raises an eyebrow. “Sagely.”

“I can be sagely,” Danny says loftily, “full of... sage.”

“And wisdom,” the guy says.

“Naturally.”

“I’m a little jetlagged,” the guy admits, shifting on his feet. “Came in yesterday.”

“ _Nasreddin_ ,” Danny suggests, “another dark roast, Turkish and strong, but smooth. A nice morning blend.”

“I’ll take a large,” the guy says, and Danny gestures at Kono to grab it. The guy offers his hand. “Steve McGarret.”

“Danny Williams,” Danny says, shaking his hand. “You a cop? We offer a blue line discount.”

“Navy,” Steve says. “I’ve got a state ID, you offer a kama’aina discount?”

“No,” Danny says, pointing at him, “in fact we offer a discount for out of state residents. Specifically Jersey.”

“Don’t get him started,” Kono says, rolling her eyes. “the Nasreddin is going to take a minute, we put it away after the late morning rush.” Steve nods, moving to the side and leaning a hip on the counter.

“Jersey,” he muses, as Danny fills a cardboard holder with eight large light roasts for a construction foreman, _Brooklyn Bridge_ , a medium light blend that smells like the earth and tastes sweet-sour like wine, packed with enough caffeine to keep the team up all night. “I could tell you weren’t a local, but that’s a far way to move. You don’t strike me as a beach enthusiast.”

“My ex-wife moved here,” Danny says, ringing up a dark roast for a harried looking college student. “with my daughter.” He smiles despite himself, thinking about Grace. 

“A daughter?” Steve asks, and Danny closes the cash drawer.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, eyes narrowing. “Kono? You said that coffee would only take a minute.” He turns to look through the window in the backroom, where Kono is reading a surfing magazine.

“An Aloha minute,” she calls back, turning a page with the tips of her fingers.

“You’re buttering me up,” Danny says, narrowing his eyes. Steve shrugs, a _yeah but nothing personal_.

“I need to ask your employee a few questions,” he says. 

“Really?” Danny asks, heading over to the door and flipping the sign from open to closed. “Where’s your badge? Because if you don’t have one, or a warrant, there’s really nothing Kono can help you with.”

“I’m looking for her cousin,” he says, pulling a picture from his pocket. Danny recognizes Chin, in an Aloha shirt with an older man, leaning against a dark four door sedan with their arms crossed. Chin has a gun on his hip. “My badge is... pending.”

“Never seen him before,” Danny says without missing a beat. “Kono’s not close to her family.”

“But she’s close to you?”

“She’s been working here for a while,” Danny says, “she’s a good kid.”

“Okay look,” Steve says, “I’m not trying to jam anybody up. See him?” Steve taps the other man in the photo, “that’s my old man. He was murdered three days ago.”

Danny sighs. “That’s a bad break, I’m sorry.”

“They were partners on the force.” Steve spreads his arms out slightly. “I’m just trying to find out more about the last case he worked, how he’s been acting since the last time I saw him.”

Danny sighs again. “Kono!” he calls out, and she shuffles out of the back, fitting a plastic lid onto a tall paper cup. “He’s looking for Chin,” Danny says. 

Kono’s eyes narrow, and Steve takes a quick step backwards, hands up to cover his face. “Don’t throw it at me!”

“Chin’s old partner was his dad,” Danny says, and Kono relaxes a little. 

“McGarrett,” she says, “yeah, Chin talked about your dad. Sorry.” she offers him the coffee and he takes it.

“I just want to ask your cousin about my dad,” he says, and Kono chews on her lip.

“Chin doesn’t want to talk to cops,” she says.

Steve grins. “I’m not a cop.”

“He’s working security,” she says, “at the Hilo Hattie, Ala Moana.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, “how much do I owe you?”

“Fifteen dollars,” Danny says, and Steve gapes.

“For a cup of coffee?”

“We made it special,” Danny says, crossing his arms, “you’re in past closing and you’ve interrogated my best employee.”

Kono slides the glass tip jar across the counter. “Who gets paid minimum wage.”

“This is a mugging,” Steve says, but pulls out his wallet.

“Tell it to the marines,” Danny says, and rings him up.

//

“Gracie,” Danny says, leading her carefully by the hand, “this is Kono.”

“Hi,” Kono says brightly, and bends down. Danny does not look down her shirt. “bunny,” Kono coos, reaching for the cage. Grace holds it up so Kono can stick her fingers through the wire mesh.

“This is Mr. Hopper,” Grace says seriously. “he’s my responsibility.”

“Let’s go in the back,” Kono says, taking Grace’s hand. “we can close the door and let him out of his cage to play.”

“You’re supposed to be working,” Danny argues weakly, and two pairs of beseeching eyes turn his way.

“Bunny,” Kono says hopefully, and Grace trembles her upper lip in the way that she knows makes Danny crumble. 

“Danno,” she says, and Danny sighs. He waves a hand at them. 

“Begone, devils,” he says and Grace squeals in delight. They disappear into the back, and Danny goes back to wiping the counter and waiting for the early evening crowd.

 

“Hey,” Steve says, fifteen minutes past close, and Danny yelps, jumping slightly.

“How do you keep getting in here after I lock the door,” he demands, and Steve shrugs, leaning against a wall with Chin peering at the pictures Kono’s hung up, waves and surfers and brightly coloured fish. 

“I wait until your last customer leaves and catch the door as they’re leaving,” Steve says.

“I took the key off Kono when she wasn’t paying attention and had a copy made,” Chin says, straightening a frame.

Danny looks at him. “I can’t tell if he’s joking,” he says to Steve. 

“It’s a fine line,” Steve agrees. Chin smiles.

“I’m not,” he clarifies. 

“Chin’s been reinstated,” Steve says, switching topics abruptly. Chin’s smile grows a little wider.

“ _Kono_ ,” Danny calls, and smiles at Chin. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Chin says, and Danny sees a dark haired blur go by, Kono launching herself across the counter and hitting Chin in the chest. She lets out a happy shriek and scrabbles at his pocket. 

“Let me see,” she says impatiently, and Chin pushes her off, lightly, to pull his new badge out of his pocket. Kono polishes it on his shirt, beaming. She murmurs something in Hawaiian that sounds like garbled Swahili to Danny’s ears and Chin laughs. “Grace,” Kono chirps, and Danny turns to see his daughter hovering by the door, a little bundle of fur in her arms.

“Hi,” Grace says, coming forward, curious, and Steve hunkers down so he doesn’t loom so much. “What’s your name?”

“Steve,” Steve says. “I’m a police officer.”

“Can I see your gun?”

“Sure,” Steve says cheerfully.

“ _Absolutely not_ ,” Danny says, and tugs Grace back. Steve stands, looking a little confused.

“Uh,” he says, “right yeah. Stay in school.” He pats Grace on the head awkwardly. Grace deems him temporarily uninteresting and turns to Chin.

“Are you a police officer too?”

Kono bounces on her toes, smiling. Chin matches her. “Yes,” he says, “I am.”

//

Steve starts coming in every other morning, leaning on the counter and only ordering the same coffee, the one he had that first night they met. 

“We have many blends,” Danny says, tapping a pen against the counter impatiently. “I’m very good at my job, you know.”

Steve shrugs. “I like this one. I know I like it. Why would I try something else?”

“Maybe you’ll find something you’ll like _more_.”

Steve doesn’t even pause to think about it. “No, I don’t think so.” Danny resists the urge to throw his pen directly at Steve’s face. 

“Coming right up,” he grits out, and Steve smiles at him, bland and smug all at once. Danny glares. 

“It’s a good cup of coffee,” Steve says, tapping his fingers on his legs and looking a little uncomfortable. “It’s good.” Danny softens a little.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah it is.”

“I hope it will still be good when I get it,” Steve says, and Danny tilts his head, questioning. “cold,” Steve continues, “because I ordered it last year and it hasn’t come yet.”

“Har,” Danny says, “har har. For that you get to the back of the line.” Steve frowns, even as Danny ignores him to serve the next two customers.

“I have to go back to work soon,” Steve says, “Chin’s already grumpy I never bring him back a coffee.”

Danny blinks. “Why don’t you bring him any?”

Steve cranes his head to surreptitiously look through the window over Danny’s shoulder, into the back room where Kono is doing inventory. “She always insists on making his coffee,” he mutters, “and then Chin says he has to drink it or she’ll _know_.”

Danny puffs up a little. “There’s nothing wrong with her coffee.” Steve stares at him.

“Kono is a _terrible_ barista,” he says, and Danny sighs, because actually Kono is beyond terrible and edging into ‘she has to be doing this on purpose no one is this bad at pumping coffee into paper cups and dumping sugar and vanilla in them.’

“Kono’s a good kid,” he says, “she works hard.” And she’s good with Grace, good with Danny taking off on the days he has custody, good with opening and sometimes closing by herself so Danny can take Grace out for breakfast and ice cream or help her with her homework in the backroom until her mother gets off work.

“She’s your only employee,” Steve says, and Danny watches the last customer wave on her way out the door. 

“I’m not seeing your point, Steven,” Danny says, and turns to make a cup the way Steve likes it. Steve appears at his elbow and Danny jumps. “Yellow line!” he yelps.

“I want to see how you make it,” Steve says.

“You’re violating the sanctity of the yellow line,” Danny says, pointing at the stripe on the floor that divides the counter space from the rest of the shop.

“Sanctity? It’s a coffee house, not a Buddhist temple.”

Danny shoves at Steve, trying to budge him a step back, and comes up against a rock wall. “Don’t you have murders to solve? How do you have so much time to work out?”

“I make time,” Steve says. “So you just stand here and talk, and the coffee pours itself?”

“Yes,” Danny says, “you’ve discovered my secret.” He wiggles his fingers. “Abracadabra,” he says blandly, and Steve laughs. His cellphone chirps, and he frowns.

“Chin,” he says, apologetically, and ducks outside, the bell jingling. Danny makes up his coffee and serves the next to people in line. He catches little glimpses of Steve through the front windows out of the corners of his eyes, pacing back and forth and gesturing with one hand as he talks.

“I got it, boss,” Kono says, bumping him with her hip. She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Go deliver.” She hands him another cup carefully, already equipped with a plastic lid and cardboard ring to keep the cup from burning his hand. “This is for Chin. Tell him _Kono knows everything_.”

“Okay,” Danny says, and ducks around the counter. He pokes his head out the door and Steve sees him. He grins.

“Hey,” he says as an aside, one hand over the mouthpiece. “I gotta run.”

“Coffee,” Danny says, holding out the cups. “Only I’ve forgotten which was for Chin so sip at your own risk.”

“Noted,” Steve says, and his fingers brush against Danny’s when he takes the cups.

//

Danny is in the back when he hears Kono’s half-scream, quickly muffled, and it’s so unlike her he gets up to check what’s going on. Her hands are half-raised, and she’s backed up against the wall, because there’s a kid in dirty boardshorts pointing a revolver at her.

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands, “hey hey, it’s okay, it’s fine.”

“Danny,” Kono squeaks, as he moves between her and the gun.

The kid’s hand shakes. “Empty the register,” he demands.

“Fine,” Danny says, reaching out to push the right sequence of buttons. “It’s fine.”

“Move slower!” the kid shouts, and Kono starts behind him.

“Okay,” Danny says, and the drawer of the cash register dings open. He’s reaching for the money when the door to the street jingles merrily and Steve steps in, looking down at his phone. He looks up and everyone freezes.

The kid’s hand shakes, the gun swinging between Steve and Danny, and Kono steps up beside Danny, grips his wrist. Danny opens his mouth to try and smooth over the situation at the same moment Steve lunges for the kid with the gun. Danny shoves Kono down and slides over the front of the counter, legs first so he hits the kid in the side with both heels.

Steve arrives half a second later with a fullbody tackle, flattens the kid out against the floor. “I surrender,” the kid says, shaking. Now that he’s closer Danny can see the prominent bones in his face, the skin stretched white and thin, the minute shakes and twitches. _Meth_ , Danny thinks, and sighs. He stands up, limping a little on his gimp knee. 

“Kono,” he calls. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” she says, and closes the register with a click. 

Steve throws an elbow into the kid’s stomach and wrenches the gun out of his hand with a bone-breaking crack. The kid whimpers. “I like their coffee,” Steve says, and applies pressure to the broken wrist. 

“Easy Rambo,” Danny says.

“My cuffs,” Steve says, “off my belt, can you--”

“Yeah,” Danny says, and snags them with two fingers. Steve holds out his hand and Danny ignores him, shoves Steve aside to plant a knee in the kid’s back and cuff his hands behind him. “I used to be a cop, you know,” he says, and Steve stands back.

“I did not know,” he says. Danny stands and rolls the kid on his side with a foot, a little harder than necessary. “Nice,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Danny says.

//

“I have a gift for you,” Steve announces. 

Kono blinks at him. “Really?”

“Not you,” Steve says, “where’s Danny?”

“In the back,” Kono says, jerking a thumb to the back room. “You might as well just go in. I’ll make up the order for you and Chin.”

“Chin says he hates you and he’s going to tell your mom something about someone named Ben,” Steve tells her, and she waves a hand dismissively. 

 

“I have a present for you,” Steve announces.

Danny blinks at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Steve says, bringing a wrapped tube out from behind him. “Tadaa.”

“Is this going to be weird?” Danny asks, squinting at it. “Why are there penguins?”

“Christmas paper was on clearance,” Steve says, “just open it.”

Danny rips the paper off in long curling peels, and they cling loosely around his wrist before he shakes them onto the floor. “It’s a bat,” he says.

Steve beams at him. “For protection.”

“It’s a hollow plastic bat,” Danny clarifies. 

“It’s symbolic,” Steve says. “Also, the kid was sentenced to eighteen months and mandatory rehab.”

“Good,” Danny says, spinning the bat in his fingers. “You know Chin has already started the paperwork to get Kono a shotgun and possibly a rocket launcher.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I could have handled it,” Danny says, shrugging.”It was under control.”

“I saved you. You’re lucky I was there.”

“Says you,” Danny replies. “I told you I used to be a cop.” He grins at Steve, playful, and Steve grins back.

“What made you quit? Your daughter?” he pauses. “Wife?”

Danny makes an unnecessary note in the margins of his order form. “My ex’s new husband moved here, and I thought I’d give my knee a break.”

“I’m glad,” Steve says, “I like your coffee.”

“Thank you,” Danny says, “I like your bat.”

“Hey,” Kono says, sticking her head through the doorframe, “I can’t tell you why, but you need to make sure Chin takes an antacid within ten minutes of drinking this coffee.”

//

“Hi,” Steve says, covered in what looks like plaster dust. “I brought lunch.” He lifts up two thin plastic bags and puts them on the counter.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Grenade,” Steve says, pulling styrofoam containers out of the bags. “Should we eat here? Maybe we should eat in the back.”

“Grenade,” Danny repeats, “I’m not even surprised anymore with you, honestly.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, restacking the containers in one arm, “I was the one throwing it. Let’s eat in the back.”

“Of course you were the one throwing it,” Danny says as Steve walks by him. “Why would I expect anything else? Kono--”

“Yeah,” Kono says without looking up from her magazine, “I got this. I hope you know my retirement plan is to slap you with a giant OSHA lawsuit for covering the store during your social calendar.”

“I’m a popular guy,” Danny says, and swats at her when she sticks her tongue out.

//

“Don’t panic,” Steve says, and Danny pulls the phone away from his ear to look at it before replacing it in the crook of his shoulder and his neck.

“Why would I be panicking?” he asks.

“Oh,” Steve says, “it’s you.”

“Yes,” Danny says, “I realize that might be strange, as I own this establishment and answer the phone nine out of ten times.”

“Really? Kono doesn’t answer the phone?”

“Kono’s phone etiquette leaves something to be desired,” Danny says. He hears the door and looks up. Kono slams in, fury in every inch of her slender frame.

“Don’t even,” she snarls at Danny, and throws her bag into the back room. “How the hell can I help you,” she asks the person standing at the register.

Danny slowly turns his attention back to the phone. “Was there something you were calling to warn me about?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “right. There may have been a small... bomb situation. Involving Chin.”

“Holy shit is he okay?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “yeah he’s fine. This happened yesterday.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, Kono just found out about it.” Danny watches Kono say something to the young man trying to get her phone number that makes his face crumple in on itself.

“You don’t say,” he mutters. Kono’s whole body goes tight, and Danny sees Chin hovering outside on the street, looking sheepish. “thanks for the heads up,” he says.

“No problem,” Steve says, sounding distracted. “I’ll be by later--you want to grab dinner?”

“Yeah okay,” Danny says, and hangs up to relieve Kono. “Go on,” he says when she hesitates, biting her lip.

“I don’t know what I would do,” she says unhappily.

“Go tell him that,” Danny says, and steers her towards the door. He takes over the line, glancing up every once in a while to see Chin looking apologetic and Kono alternating between fury and affection. Danny hits a lull and goes the door. “Take lunch,” he says, and gives Chin a nod.

“Thanks Danno,” Kono says, and dodges his retaliating blow.

She comes back an hour later, beaming, and Danny texts Steve _crisis averted_.

Steve texts back, _Danno???_

“Godammit, Kalakaua,” Danny says, and Kono giggles.

//

“Hi,” Steve says, “listen, I’m going to be late to dinner, just order something.” He curses suddenly, low, and Danny can hear muffled noises, _pop pop pop_ and then two muted booms. “Sorry,” Steve says, “we’re apprehending a couple of drug kingpins.”

“Are you being shot at?” Danny asks, “Why are you talking to me during a firefight.”

“Twenty minutes late,” Steve says, and Danny hears Chin shout something like _on your left_. “Thirty--” Steve says, “--you have the right to remain silent--thirty minutes, tops.”

“Fine,” Danny says. “don’t forget your wallet this time.”

Chin’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Tell Kono hi for me.”

//

Steve raps on the window an hour before opening, looking anxious. Danny lets him in, and Steve hefts a duffel bag onto the table. He unzips it and pulls out a kevlar vest. He holds it out to Danny.

“Would you believe me if I said it was for a routine law enforcement-civilian unity policy?”

“No,” Danny says.

“Would you wear it anyway?”

“Nope,” Danny says.

“I’d also like you to carry a firearm.”

Danny rolls his eyes so hard they twinge a little. “What’s going on?”

“It’s possible that the bomb threat against Chin was connected to the same man who killed my father,” Steve says. “I’m... concerned.”

“About me.” Danny crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yes.”

“Because there’s a serious threat to my person or because you’re the most extreme control freak to ever grace this island?”

“I’m not a--”

“Steve,” Danny interrupts. “I’m responsible for this store. I’m responsible for Kono. I have a daughter. My _daughter_ \--” Danny gestures emphatically, “comes here.”

“I know,” Steve says. “I don’t think your daughter is in danger, I just.” He frowns. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to Grace,” he says finally, a little stiff.

“Okay,” Danny says. “Okay, Steve.” He makes a cup of coffee the way Steve likes it. “On the house.”

Steve takes it. “You’ll wear the vest?”

“Nope,” Danny says.

 

Steve breaks into the shop while it’s closed and leaves a plastic capgun on the register.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Danny tells Kono, “it’s fine.”

“Right,” Kono says slowly. “I’ll just put this with the bat under the counter as one of the things we can use to protect ourselves.”

“You do that,” Danny says.

 

“I have a real gun,” he tells Steve on the phone, later, “I just keep it in a lockbox like a normal person.”

“I think you’re talking,” Steve says, “but all I’m really hearing is _let’s ignore the Navy SEAL with years of tactical operation experience_.”

“Go back to work,” Danny says, and grins for the rest of the day.

//

“Danny,” Kono says, “we emptied out the old stock today so the trashcan is kind of...”

“You are a liar,” Danny grumbles, on his way to the big trash barrel and the back door. “I bet you could lift this with one hand.”

“I’m just a girl,” Kono says, batting her eyelashes, and starts wiping down the tables and stacking the chairs.

Danny drags the barrel out into the back alley, grumbling, and hefts the dumpster lid open with a shove of his hand. “I really need to get a trash can with wheels,” he says aloud, and turns to see a thin Asian man in a nice suit pointing a gun at him. “Woah,” he says, hands up. 

“Good evening, Mr. Williams.”

Danny stares at him. “Good evening.... man with a gun. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No,” the man says. “I’m going to shoot you now.”

“Oh,” Danny says, and puts his arms down at his sides. “Anything I can say to change your mind?”

“No,” the man says apologetically. “On the off chance you survive you can tell your police friend that Wo Fat sends his regards.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Danny says, and then the heavy back door bangs and Kono’s voice filters through the small alley. 

“Danny?”

“It’s fine,” Danny shouts, “Kono don’t--” Kono appears around the corner, clutching that stupid plastic yellow bat Steve had given him.

“Woah,” she says when she catches sight of the man with the gun. The bat comes up to her shoulder. Danny tries to get between her and the gun.

“She doesn’t have anything to do with this,” he says, “Kono, go back inside.”

“I have business with your employer,” the man says.

Kono shoves at Danny and steps up until she’s shoulder to shoulder with him. “Is it to throw down in kitchen stadium?” She turns to Danny. “Seriously who is this guy.”

“Why don’t you ever listen to me,” Danny complains at her, “Chin is going to kill me for not keeping you inside.”

“Oh please,” Kono replies, rolling her eyes.

“I suppose I’ll kill both of you,” the man says. 

“Hi excuse me,” Danny says, “this is a private conversa--” he pushes Kono behind him and lunges for the gun. It goes off to the side of his head, booming loud enough to create a high pitched whine in his ears, and then again, and a line of fire rakes across his ribs. He grunts, and they tumble to the ground. Danny manages to get in two hard hits to the man’s kidneys before a kick hits his band knee and he goes down hard, trying to catch his breath. The man straightens his jacket with an angry exhale and reaches for his gun.

Which is when Kono steps up behind him and hits him in the back with the bat like she’s swinging for home. The bat impacts with a solid, painful sounding _thump_ , and the man pitches forward onto the ground, where Kono winds up and hits him again. His head slams into the pavement and he stills. Kono raises the bat again and Danny struggles to his feet in time to grab her around the waist.

“You got him,” he says. “You okay?”

“Are you bleeding?” Kono asks, dropping the bat. It makes a clattering noise on the ground. “Let me see.”

She pulls at his shirt. Danny bats ineffectually at her hands. “What the hell did you do to that bat?”

“Grace was concerned about your safety after that time she and Steve hung out so we cut it open and filled it with rocks to make her feel better. I think you should go to the hospital.”

“Of course you did,” Danny says. “And we can’t leave, what about... him?” He nudges the man with his foot.

“I’m calling Steve,” Kono announces, and Danny props himself up on the wall. 

 

Steve meets them at the hospital, where he hovers behind the doctor stitching up Danny’s ribs and says things like _this one time in Kalahandar_.

“Years,” Danny says. “I was a cop for years and had _no_ injuries. I retire from law enforcement and meet you, and all of a sudden I’m dodging bullets.”

Steve reaches out and traces the edges of the graze. “You’re not dodging very well,” he says, face tight.

Danny shrugs. “Out of practice.” 

“You’re all set,” the doctor says. “Keep it dry.”

“Thanks,” Danny says, and stands.

“Here,” Steve says, digging in a pocket, “it’s uh.” He holds out Danny’s tie. Danny takes it, and rubs his thumb over a damp spot on the fabric. “There was blood,” Steve says awkwardly. “I cleaned it in the bathroom, should be fine.”

“Thanks,” Danny says, “Grace gave me this tie.”

“I know,” Steve says. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“No,” Danny says, “I’ve got my car here.”

“I’ll drive you,” Steve says, and starts rifling through Danny’s pants pockets.

“Hey,” Danny says, pushing at him. Steve crowds closer and sticks a hand in one of Danny’s back pockets.

Chin pokes his head into the curtained off area. “Should I come back?”

“No,” Steve says, emerging triumphant and jingling Danny’s keys. “Danny identified his attacker as Wo Fat, I want to make sure he’s remanded.”

“He escaped from police custody,” Chin says. “I’m coming with you to pick up Kono.”

 

Steve is silent on the drive over, his fingers drumming on the gearshift, the armrest of the door, his knee. “You’re spending the night at my place,” he says when they pull up to the police station and Chin goes in to get Kono.

“I don’t think so,” Danny says. Steve drums his fingers on the steering wheel aggressively.

“I’ll sleep on your sofa,” Steve says.

“No,” Danny says. Steve exhales hard through his nose.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t understand why you’re being so crazy.”

“I have feelings,” Steve says, stilted.

“Congratulations,” Danny says, “you’re a real human being.”

“For you,” Steve clarifies, and then freezes. “About you,” he says quickly, “no for--about-- your safety.” 

“Thank you,” Danny says. “I think.”

“Hey,” Kono says cheerfully, climbing in the car. “Are you giving me a ride home?” She bumps knuckles with Danny and gestures at his side. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Danny says, “a few stitches. Where’s Chin?” Kono points over her shoulder and Danny cranes around. Chin is pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, gesturing to himself and talking loudly.

“We’re concerned about your safety,” Steve blurts, “because of safety and... feelings.”

Danny turns to him. “Are you having a stroke?”

“No, I’m legitimately concerned because a dangerous criminal tried to kill you.”

“We don’t have to worry about that,” Kono says. 

“What?”

“Oh,” Kono says, looking slightly guilty. “I’m sort of dating the head of the Japanese Mafia? He doesn’t like it when I’m late for Movie Night. Or when someone threatens me with a gun.”

“ _What_ ,” Danny says, turning to face her. “What the hell, rookie. Does Chin know?”

“I just told him,” Kono says. Outside the car, Chin kicks the dumpster repeatedly and drops his head into his hands. “He just needs a minute to deal with his life.”

“Great,” Steve says, “we have a stakeout tomorrow, I’ve never going to hear the end of this.”

“I’ll calm him down,” Kono says, and climbs out of the car.

“I still want to sleep on your couch,” Steve says.

Danny shifts his weight on the seat and winces as his stitches pull. “The answer is still no.”

“Fine,” Steve says, “I’ll just drive you to my house and you can sleep on _my_ sofa.”

“I’ll call a cab,” Danny says. 

“With my phone?” Steve asks, “No, that doesn’t sound like something that will happen.”

“I have my daughter tomorrow,” Danny says, “we’re going to the zoo. I don’t have time to be under house arrest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve says, “House arrest refers to your own house. You’ll be at my house.”

“The only person being ridiculous here is you,” Danny says. Outside, Chin holds out his arms for a hug and Kono wipes discreetly at her eyes. “You can go to the zoo with us,” Danny says abruptly. 

“You may sleep in your own bed,” Steve says magnanimously. Danny gapes at him, then rolls his eyes and frowns, peering out the window. “She’s dating a mob boss? Did Chin ever get her that permit for a firearm?”

“I’m all over it,” Steve says, and leans over to open the glovebox.

//

Steve buys Grace pink hippo shaped strawberry ice cream and holds her up when she climbs on the railing to look at the polar bears. In the insect house he tells her what Danny assumes are heavily edited stories about the times he and his football friends went hiking in the Southeast Asian jungles and answers her questions about how to treat snake venom with the utmost seriousness.

Danny buys Grace two dixie cups full of dry brown kibble and sends her in to harass the goats and the sheep before collapsing next to Steve on a chipped red bench. Steve nods at him, engrossed in the glossy pamphlet map he’d grabbed at the entrance.

“We can make the penguin feeding if we skip the alligators,” Steve says, “then we swing by the rhinoceros and see the big cats on the way out.”

“This is not a military operation,” Danny says, “we just wander around until the sugar overtakes her and she passes out.”

“Organization is important,” Steve says, “It’s a skillset she should learn to value.” He offers Danny a protein bar. “Peanut butter?”

“No,” Danny says, “I’m okay. Thanks though.”

“I kind of want to see the penguins,” Steve says, putting the protein bar in a pocket. 

“I have feelings for you too,” Danny says suddenly, and Steve’s fingers go white around the folded edges of the paper map. “Safety feelings, of course,” Danny says, and Steve laughs.

“Danno,” Grace shrieks from where she’s petting a sheep aggressively enough to be nearly misconstrued as animal cruelty.She waves frantically. “Steve!”

Danny waves back, and Steve throws her a casual salute. “That poor sheep,” he says, and Danny smiles. 

“We should get dinner,” Danny says.

“There’s a hulihuli chicken stall here at the zoo,” Steve says, pointing at a spot on the map. Danny squints at it.

“It’s by the penguins.”

Steve smiles. “Entirely incidental.”

“Okay,” Danny says, “fine. I have to bring Kono dinner anyway or she’ll fill the salt shakers with sugar. Again. But on purpose this time.”

“Grace,” Steve shouts, “penguins!” Grace throws the last of the feed at a gaggle of unsuspecting geese and vaults the fence to make it to them.

“That she learned from you,” Danny says, and scoops Grace off the ground to settle her on his shoulders.

“Penguins,” Grace says gleefully, and Steve smiles. His hand bumps against Danny’s as their arms swing back and forth.

//

“Hey,” Kono says, when they’re cleaning up the next night, “can you make Chin a mocha for me?”

Danny nods at her. “Still taking pity on him?”

“Yeah,” Kono says, “Adam and I are taking him to dinner tonight.”

“I’ll give him an extra shot of espresso,” Danny says. “Do the money drop, will you?”

“Yeah,” Kono says, and disappears into the back. Chin raps on the door, and Danny waves him in.

“She left it open for you.”

“Thanks,” Chin says, smoothing his tie. He looks grim.

Danny finishes wiping down the countertop. “Not looking forward to dinner?”

“My opinion means a lot to Kono,” Chin says, adjusting his sidearm. “Kono means a lot to me.”

“That makes sense,” Danny says, “with her mom passing.”

Chin stares at him. “What are you talking about? Auntie called me this morning.” Kono comes out of the back with her jacket on, slinging her bag over a shoulder.

“Cousin,” she greets happily, and presses a kiss to his cheek. She catches sight of Danny. “Oops.”

“You lying--” 

“Gotta go,” Kono says, and drags Chin out the door behind her. Adam leans out of his car window to give Danny a wave, and Steve ducks in the door.

“Kono is a terrible person,” Danny tells him. 

Steve steals an apple from the fruit bowl and takes a bite out of it. “Don’t let her hear you.”

“You wanna do dinner?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “also there’s a duck tour into the Ala Wai next Tuesday that should be suitably horrifying, that’s the day you have Grace, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny says, and kisses him. Steve tastes like coffee and stale mustard, and when the break he blinks at Danny with wide eyes. “Wait,” Danny says, “a tour into the Ala Wai?” He turns away to toss the rag into the sink.

Steve steps up behind him and curls a tentative hand around his hip. “I bought three tickets,” he says, and his weight is warm and familiar.

“Good,” Danny says, and smiles.

//

Steve knocks on the window fifteen minutes before opening, and Danny lets him in.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHA THE COFFEEESHOP AU NO ONE EVER WANTED ME TO WRITE. 
> 
> ALSO KNOWN AS ANOTHER PIECE OF EVIDENCE THAT I OWN THE GENRE 'NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENS' WITH THE SUBGENRE 'SERIOUSLY NOTHING EVER FUCKING HAPPENS'
> 
> this was languishing in my googledocs. I feel like it's boring and dull and stilted but its not getting any better. Also I have no beta >.>; I expect there are typos.
> 
> by the way a duck tour into the Ala Wai was a thing that almost happened which would have been TRAGIC but HILARIOUS for anyone that has seen the infested cesspool that is the Ala Wai (when my cousin was on the crew team at Punahou they discovered the flesh eating virus in there no joke)


End file.
